


and we all know; how this will end

by middlecyclone



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:59:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8898277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlecyclone/pseuds/middlecyclone
Summary: They’re partners, the pair of them, in battle and in love and in everything in between. That was the pact they made, at the beginning, and it will stand as long as they will. That’s never been in question.





	

Before it ever even began, their story’s end had been decided. It’s the middle that was up to them.

 

..

 

“Jedha has never had anything for you, has it,” Chirrut says, and feels the gaze of the other man intent upon him, curious and assessing and kind.

“Nothing good, at least,” he says. “Baze Malbus.”

“Chirrut Îmwe,” he answers, and smiles. “I think you should come with me.”

“Why?” Baze asks, voice rough.

“Because Jedha doesn’t have much for you, but I’m willing to bet that I can do better than Jedha,” Chirrut tells him frankly, and holds out his hand. Baze hesitates, but he takes it. His hand is shockingly warm, and Chirrut can feel thick calluses on his fingers and a wide scar across his palm, and he smiles. He has a good feeling about this one.

 

..

 

Baze hadn’t really hoped for anything much when he’d followed Chirrut back to the temple that day, but he’d gotten it anyway. He’d gotten infinitely more than he’d bargained for.

 

..

 

“You’re not what I would have expected from a monk,” Baze says, panting, and Chirrut laughs.

“Why’s that?” he asks.

“Well for one, I didn’t anticipate you being able to throw me to the ground,” Baze says from where he’s prone in the practice ring dirt, and Chirrut laughs again.

“Never underestimate a Guardian of the Whills,” he advises as Baze struggles back to his feet.

“Trust me, I won’t be making that mistake again,” he says.

“One more round?” Chirrut asks, and Baze groans.

“Not yet,” he says, lifting up his tunic and rubbing the bruise already developing on his hip, “give me a minute or two,” and Chirrut nods at him and then steps closer, placing a thin hand over Baze’s larger, rougher one, pressing gently at the purpling mark on Baze’s hip.

“That’s another thing. Aren’t monks supposed to be celibate?” Baze asks, looking down at the top of Chirrut’s head, and then immediately regretting it.

Chirrut lifts his chin up to Baze’s face and cocks his head, thinking. “So you _have_ been thinking about it,” he says, and Baze balks.

“I didn’t say that,” he says, “I just–you just keep–touching me, and–”

“Kiss me and find out,” Chirrut cuts him off, and Baze blinks at him, and does.

 

..

 

After all these years, Baze keeps waiting for Chirrut to stop surprising him. He never does.

 

..

 

“Stop being so idealistic,” Baze snaps. “It’s going to get you killed one day. I’m not always going to be here to watch your back, you know.”

Chirrut raises an eyebrow at him. “Aren’t you?”

Baze hesitates at that, takes a deep breath, drags the toe of his boot across the worn stone of the floor. Chirrut just waits.

“Well, probably,” he says, “probably I will always be here. But you never know. And I need you to promise to look out for yourself, if a time ever comes when I can’t do it.”

Chirrut grins at him brightly, and puts a hand on the taller man’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about me,” he says. “I’ll always have the force, even when I don’t have you.”

Baze snorts. “That’s not good enough,” he says.

“Well, it’ll have to be,” Chirrut says, and puts a note of finality behind his words. He knows Baze doesn’t like that, but Baze doesn’t have to like it. He just has to accept it.

 

..

 

Chirrut has always been the best thing that’s ever happened to Baze. Baze isn’t quite the best thing that’s ever happened to Chirrut, but he’s pretty close.

 

..

 

“Everything is falling apart,” Baze says, when they’re alone in their bed together. He says things in the dark quiet peace of their room that he would never dare say during the day, but when his eyes are closed and Chirrut’s arms are around him, he can dare to let his guard down. He’s always been circumspect, but Chirrut is the sole exception to that. With Chirrut, he can simply be honest.

“Falling apart?” Chirrut repeats softly.

“You know what I mean,” Baze says. “The temple, Jedha, the whole damned galaxy. It’s coming down around us, and we can’t do anything about it.”

“You know that’s not true,” Chirrut tells him, “we can always do _something_.”

Baze sighs, because Chirrut is right, because Chirrut is almost always right.

“So we will do something?” Baze asks, but it’s not much of a question at all, not with Chirrut. With him, standing up and taking action for the greater good is more or less a foregone conclusion.

Chirrut doesn’t even dignify his half-question with a response, he just rolls them over and kisses Baze once, twice, three times, pressing him into their thin mattress. Baze kisses him back again and again; Chirrut is warm in the chill of the desert at night, and his mouth on Baze’s doesn’t quite make the worry melt away, but it goes a long way towards that end.

Everything is falling apart, Baze thinks, but at least he still has this. At least for now.

 

..

 

They’re partners, the pair of them, in battle and in love and in everything in between. That was the pact they made, at the beginning, and it will stand as long as they will. That’s never been in question.

 

..

 

The temple falls, but they don’t.

“We should leave,” Baze says, right after it goes down, but Chirrut just shakes his head.

“You know that’s not an option,” he says, and Baze does know. That’s the problem.

“We’re here until it’s all over,” Chirrut says, and it’s not up for debate. “We stay until we no longer have the luxury of that choice.”

“That day might come sooner than you think,” Baze warns, but he doesn’t argue.

“We’ll meet it when it comes,” Chirrut says, “but until it does, I’m still a Guardian of the Whills.”

“You don’t have to stay here to be a Guardian,” Baze says, but he’s not arguing. He’s just making sure Chirrut knows.

He does know; he’s always known. He smiles at Baze and moves closer, lacing their fingers together. “Thank you,” Chirrut says, and they prepare for what will come, together.

 

..

 

Chirrut senses the Force in the girl’s crystal from across the square, and he sighs, because he isn’t all knowing but this he can be sure of: this is the beginning of the end.


End file.
